Promises made to me are not promises at all, just noise that occurred in my presence
I am as human to you as another treasured tool, your iPhone perhaps
Maybe that’s why you think I should be extraordinarily grateful for any human right you afford me
Maybe that’s why you are so incensed that I will not sit back quietly
You can keep punishing me
Didn’t anyone ever tell you that my skin won’t crack so easily?
Satyagraha is my history.
We are still a chaotic mist teetering on the precipice of valid existence
You can turn the heat up for a false bump with this sham recession
(Should I die if I can’t earn a living?)
But it will be as short-lived as any pump and dump (P&D)
Global warming is melting away the pretense of “competing priorities”
In a poetic paradox
We are slowly condensing into a cohesive sea of atomic affinity
and direction
Maybe not today
But one day
I will be a tidal wave.
It’s already happening.
